


something good can work

by amaiyo



Series: just chance [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash is a mess, Everyone Needs A Hug, First Crush, M/M, POV Alternating, alex is tired, the crew is on a mission™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaiyo/pseuds/amaiyo
Summary: Ash is a mess and everyone notices. It's baby's first crush.[Featuring; Single father Alex, Shorter "Here for the Drama" Wong, and Sing "I Can't Ignore Him He's My Boss" Soo-Ling.]Part ii of "stupid for you".
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Series: just chance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706632
Comments: 72
Kudos: 544





	something good can work

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. I'm in quarantine, perpetually exhausted, accidentally became obsessed with Danganronpa and let it consume me, but I got a surprising amount of requests for a second part to "stupid for you" so I hope someone enjoys this at least a little.
> 
> Stay safe, guys.
> 
> -Nia
> 
> Music recommendations;  
> "Harlem" by New Politics  
> "Undercover Martyn" by Two Door Cinema Club  
> "Someday" by The Strokes  
> "Splendidly" by HARBOUR  
> "Me + You" by Silent Crowd

TUESDAY;

It had only been a few days since Kong had watched Ash fall over himself trying to flirt with the exchange student at the bar, and honestly, it was weird.

The fact that Ash been so openly interested in _anyone_ at all had left them stunned as they watched it all unfold like a train wreck, but now Ash seemed to have decided to act as if it had never happened in the first place.

Ash didn’t talk about him, or rather, he _wouldn’t_ ; he wouldn’t answer questions about the dark-haired boy. Wouldn’t tell them where they’d gone or what they’d talked about. Ash was a closed book, almost as if the night had been a collective hallucination—and Kong had been glad for things to ease back to normal before the start of the week.

One night of miracles had been enough excitement and stress for a lifetime, everyone agreed.

-

The closest of Ash’s crew treated dinner as a family affair; each with a plate at their chipping, unbalanced dining table next to the one kitchen window in the house they rented. Shorter Wong from Chinatown was there too, wedged in between Alex and Bones and knocking knees with everyone. 

Kong liked Shorter—everyone seemed to like Shorter. He and Ash had known each other since middle school, if the stories were to be believed. But Ash hadn’t paid him much mind today. He hadn’t really been paying _anyone_ much mind.

Kong entertained the thought that it was strange, but only for a moment. 

Kong shuffled out from under the too-small table to refill his glass as Alex gathered plates and noticed Ash’s own empty mug as he stood. “Hey Boss, want a refill?”

The blond was hyper-focused on something in his hands just under the tabletop, eyes flicking back and forth—reading something, it seemed.

Not really odd, Kong would argue. If anything, there was nothing more defining of their boss; the man almost always had his nose in a book or article or PRJ of some kind—but it wasn’t often he was so unaware of his surroundings that he lost the thread of conversation.

“Ash?” Kong tried again. The other man had gone full space-cadet. Ran an absentminded thumb along a nick in his jawline, eyes still scanning through something and utterly oblivious to the way everyone had stopped to stare at the peculiar exchange.

Shorter stretched across the table and slapped one open-palmed hand next to Ash’s plate. “Yo, sleeping beauty!”

Ash startled and jumped, obviously taken off guard—now _that_ was odd. Very un-Ash, and Kong would be lying if he said it didn’t worry him on some level.

“What?” Ash snapped, narrowed eyes on Shorter. Whatever had held his attention was still hidden under the table.

“Water?” Kong offered gently, nodding towards Ash’s empty glass and holding his own aloft as an explanation. Ash was intimidating even on a good day—and this was obviously not a good day. 

Ash’s irritation dropped away as quickly as it had come. His shoulders slumped and the furrow between his bright blond eyebrows disappeared, and he thanked Kong with a smile that Kong would almost consider _apologetic_. If nothing else he seemed embarrassed at how he had been caught-out.

“What’s with you? It’s not like you to daydream,” Kong heard Shorter tease as he walked made his way to the fridge.

“I was reading something,” Ash huffed, but offered nothing more. Shorter backed off with a theatrical lament about Ash’s attitude. Ash took the opportunity to tease Shorter about some girl he had been talking about and Kong tried his best to tell himself that it all felt normal.

Ash’s attention would drift to his lap off-and-on, but he seemed careful not to get lost in it again.

Maybe it was something from Cain. Or paperwork from the banks. It could be any number of things, Kong reasoned—so he didn’t think much of it. Or at least, he tried not to. It was probably nothing major. Ash was human, he was allowed to have his odd moments and slip-ups and off days.

But when they stood to clear their plates, Kong felt Bones’ gently nudge him and nod to where Ash stood, silently slipping his phone back in his pocket with the screen carefully tilted away from them.

It wasn’t necessarily something bad, or completely out of character. Just a little odd. It was rare that any of them kept secrets from one another; something about making a living as professional criminals forced you to only keep trusted company. And Kong trusted Ash, more than most.

So Kong let it slip from his mind as he bid them all goodnight and turned in for the evening. He was reading into it too much, he told himself.

-

WEDNESDAY;

They had a meeting with Shorter and the rest of the Chinatown crew, they had errands to run and payments to make and for fuck’s sake _someone_ needed to go to the grocery store at some point.

And somehow, among the chaos of getting everyone out the door on time and heading downtown, Bones had the soul-deep premonition of a feeling that the day was going to be a disaster.

Kong had mentioned something about it being a beautiful day, and Bones –enamored with the first cloudless day in weeks—had agreed, when Alex suggested walking to meet Shorter and his crew.

And Ash had said nothing. Murmured something that they had all collectively agreed to take as ascent, sharp green eyes stuck to his phone as the four of them stumbled out the door in the direction of Chang Dai. The city pavement smelled like cold rain from the night before and it should have been enough to temper the weird roiling in Bones’ stomach making him wonder.

Ash kept quiet most of the walk and for some reason it was terribly unsettling.

“Don’t you think the boss is acting weird?” Bones stage-whispered over the rush of traffic. Kong elbowed him, nodding sharply at where Ash strolled ahead of them, a half-step behind his second-in-command.

“He’ll hear you,” Kong hissed back.

“Not that it matters,” Bones argued. He’d be hard-pressed to deny he was pouting. “He’s been stuck on his phone all morning. What do you think he’s doing?”

“Whatever it is I’m sure it’s important,” Kong tried, but Bones could hear the waver of doubt in his friend’s voice. Bones was more than sure that Kong was as unsettled as he had been feeling.

But, regardless of the question of morality of prying into their boss’s life, an agent of chaos seemed to have followed them. Bones watched in silent, confused horror as it unfolded, hearing Kong’s quiet gasp of “oh no” somewhere above him.

They watched in real time as Ash Lynx, notorious gang boss of New York and prolific arms dealer, took a few too many uneven steps to his right with his attention stolen elsewhere and walked deadass into a lamp post. 

The sound of his skull connecting with the metal was nearly comical and Bones nearly physically hurt himself trying to hold in the burst of laughter that almost escaped— _do not laugh_ , he begged himself. He was sure nothing would get him fired or shot quicker than laughing at the way Ash stumbled back a few steps with what looked to be genuine shock, groaning and confused and obviously pissed off.

 _Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t fucking laugh._

“Are you okay, boss?” Kong was calling and Bones was so grateful because he was about to _lose_ it. Bones could see what had distracted him—his phone clutched like a lifeline in one hand as Ash held his head in the other, grumbling some iteration of “fuck, goddamn” like a skipping record.

Alex turned and sighed, expression professionally resigned—Bones could read the pain in his eyes anyway. “What the fuck, Ash?”

“I _told_ you,” Bones quietly pressed, jabbing an elbow into Kong’s side. He watched Ash return to Alex’s side—no hint of embarrassment or chagrin, simply dazed and back to immersing himself with whatever had been so distracting on the little LCD screen in his hand.

Kong nudged him back, shaking his head like a warning.

But something was definitely up with the boss.

\- 

THURSDAY;

Cain Blood liked Ash Lynx; he had earned Cain’s high opinion and a wide reach of admiration from his men. Cain hadn’t met many that had Ash’s charisma and charm. But more than anything the other man had proved himself to be honorable—a trait truly difficult to find in their line of work—and at some point he had come to think of Ash as a friend of sorts.

But they were business partners first and foremost. Ash’s drop-ins weren’t for chat and gossip, and Cain never minded the younger man setting up work in Cain’s warehouse office so the two of them could tackle mutual problems efficiently. Ash shared a three-bedroom house with three other men and office space with another two on any given day. It was no surprise that on the most grueling of days Ash would take advantage of the quiet space Cain had been able to sequester. Those days were more than few and far between.

But today was strange.

Ash was quiet and preoccupied, Cain noted, but that was just the base level. That part was normal enough. He had not said much since he’d shown up, but Cain was fine with letting him pour over his own files in the corner while Cain focused on his own work—this wasn’t a social call.

But Ash was sighing. A lot. Enough that it quickly became a distraction in the otherwise relatively quiet room.

And he was kind of just… smiling at his phone? Cain was more than sure that Ash had accomplished virtually nothing in the hour he had been working, a genuine wonder for the notorious workaholic.

Watching Ash daydream and sigh felt like watching a feral cat suddenly beg for affection from strangers. The sharp edges of his face had faded into something disturbingly soft, almost dreamy, and he was slouched in his seat with a leg over the armrest like an unruly teenager.

And Cain knew logically that Ash was just that—a teenager. Freshly eighteen and painfully young. But seeing his usual ruthless countenance contort into this docile, flighty young thing was like stepping foot on an alien planet. 

Cain absolved to move downstairs and let whatever was going on with Ash cycle through. Maybe he was just having an off day—contrary to popular betting pools, the kid was human. 

Cain took one last look at the delicate curve to Ash’s smile, chin in hand and utterly lost to the world, and almost felt as if he was trespassing on something private.

As Cain stood to leave, he just barely caught it—laughter. More of a fond chuff, really. Cain probably would have missed if he hadn’t spent the last hour becoming attuned to every little sigh and simper and murmur.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Ash laugh, not really—and certainly never like that.

He passed Ash’s second-in-command on the way down the stairs and the shorter man nodded to him when their eyes met. Cain reached out to stop him where he stood, just one creaky step below. Cain could admit he was curious—and who better to ask?

“What’s up with Lynx?”

Alex’s eyebrows arched—carefully surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Kid looks like he’s in love.”

Alex didn’t look happy at that—Cain caught the briefest flashes of panic in Alex’s eyes before it was forced away, overtaken with something more of grimace. Cain wondered if Alex was playing damage control, or if he was trying to deny what was in front of his face for his own sanity. It couldn’t be easy running after Ash Lynx.

“No, no,” Alex sighed, shaking his head. “He was sick recently, it’s kind of thrown him off. He’s not seeing anyone.” Denial, then. Poor guy.

“You sure about that?” Cain asked—because it seemed silly to deny the far-away look in Ash’s eyes, or how he tempered himself to something gentle that could only get him killed. As if there was something more important than their jobs and guns, something more to chase. 

Cain had watched enough of his men fall in and out of love; seek it out and curse it and run from it. He had seen those dreamy eyes in his own reflection before he had given it all up to protect what he had.

But Ash Lynx wasn’t the type to give up what he wanted, God help him.

Alex had fallen silent, thoughtful. He had the look of a haggard single father trying to make sense of his son. Cain almost felt bad. He clapped the man on the shoulder once as he passed and didn’t bother to argue further.

It wasn’t his problem anyway. He just hoped it ended well.

\- 

THURSDAY – EVENING;

Alex knew there was a problem when Kong and Bones noticed a change in their Boss’s behavior—but that wasn’t an end-all. They were both close to Ash and were with him more often than not, so of course it was easy for them to spot the little quirks and changes. It wasn’t astrophysics, really.

And Alex had tried to ignore it—Ash was practical, after all. But more importantly he was human. And young. Whatever he was going through he was sure Ash wanted to keep private, and he was confident Ash could work through it without Alex prying into his business. He wasn’t a child. 

But now Cain Blood had called him out on it, and that was dangerous because that meant it was more than just being a little air-headed at dinner or clumsy with some friends. It was bleeding over into work, whatever _it_ was. And other people, people who _weren’t_ their crew, were noticing.

_“Kid looks like he’s in love.”_

Alex had the thought before Cain had said it, but he had been able to brush it off before. Now he had to consider—was it something more serious, more personal? 

Alex had seen first-hand that weekend the disaster of watching their Boss blush and stutter and trip over himself because an international student in a cable knit sweater smiled at him; but Ash had trudged back into the bar, forlorn and alone, and Alex had assumed that the whole affair had ended poorly.

Shorter had poked and prodded the blond about it—what was his name? He was from Japan, right? Are you going to see him again?

But Ash had turned in his seat, grumbling at them to mind their own damn business with all the sour of a man scorned in love—and that had been the end, hadn’t it? It had ended and Ash was cutting his losses, letting himself wallow.

Alex had been so sure that they’d dodged a bullet. A clean break away from potential catastrophe.

Or had that encounter taken Ash another way; had it opened him to realizing what he was missing out on by choosing to stay in their way of life, by not allowing himself the time or luxury of romanticism?

Was he lonely and now painfully aware of how it left him hollow because of some dumb college kid?

Love made you stupid, and stupid got you killed.

It wouldn’t be the first time Alex had been wrong about an assumption he’s made concerning Ash Lynx, but fuck did this feel like the most precarious.

It was nearing 9pm when Alex heard the front door open and close—muffled and slow, as if they were trying to tread quietly, but the click of the latch catching was unmistakable.

He could hear Bones and Kong on the second floor, the quick scuffle of footsteps and Bones accusing Kong of cheating at something or other; so, it couldn’t be either of them.

Alex found Ash’s door closed—he always kept it shut. He had a thing about open doorways. When Alex knocked, there was no answer, and a quick peek inside revealed the blond missing.

Annoyed, and somewhat panicked—what could Ash possibly be doing out so late, he _always_ told Alex where he was going, they _always_ planned everything _together_ – Alex grabbed his shoes by the door and prepared to track his boss down.

Given the current circumstances, it curdled his stomach to consider letting Ash out of his sight right now. All this nonsense had him on a blade’s edge between anxiety and a heart attack. Was this how his own father had felt, nearly half a decade prior, catching Alex sneaking through the window to meet the boy next door with a bottle of whiskey? 

“I can’t believe I’m twenty with a teenage son,” he muttered.

But he didn’t have to look far, thank fuck—Alex could spy him through the screen door, settled on the front steps with his long legs stretched out and his phone to his ear. He didn’t even notice Alex standing in the doorway.

“Who does that? That's bullshit.” Ash was saying, expression bemused. He paused, listening to whoever was on the other end, before dissolving into fucking _giggles_. “No way, I’m _not_ doing that.”

What was happening? Was this the goddamn Twilight Zone? Alex wondered how much diphenhydramine was left in the medicine cabinet.

Alex pointedly cleared his throat, just loud enough to catch the blond’s attention. He watched the moment Ash realized he wasn’t alone; he jumped, turning to spy Alex leaned against the door jamb with only the glass of the storm door to separate them, and his expression soured. 

“Hey, can I call you back?” He whispered, tilting his head away. His tone was something soft and pleading and it made the vein in Alex’s forehead throb. When Ash ended his call he turned to Alex but didn’t stand, expression accusatory. “There a reason you’re listening in on my calls?” 

“There a reason you’re hiding that you’re taking a call?” Alex shot back, gesturing widely at the dimly lit porch. Their little neighborhood was all but deserted by this hour—no nosy housemates to listen to him through the thin walls out here. 

“I don’t need to answer that,” Ash snapped, eyes steely—but his shoulders were hiked up, arms pulled close. He was uncomfortable, cautious. 

“Who were you talking to?” Alex tried again, a little more gentle—because he couldn’t imagine a single person that could reduce Ash Lynx to the strange, softened boy he had just seen. 

Well, except for maybe one. 

“I don’t need to answer that, either,” Ash told him, standing and pocketing his phone. “Last I checked, your duties didn’t include eavesdropping on my calls or pretending you’re my father. Remember your place. This is your job.” 

He turned and began descending the front steps, hands hidden in his pockets and Alex wanted to ram his head through the glass between them out of sheer frustration. 

He knew better than to corner him—knew he’d run just as fast as any caged animal looking for an out. No steps forward, half a mile back. 

“Ash, where are you going?” Alex sighed, pleading. He began to open the door to follow him but thought better of it. It would only piss Ash off more to trail after him when he’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want Alex’s company. There was no talking to Ash when he was like this. 

“Taking a walk, since I’m not allowed to have a private conversation in my own home.” 

Part of Alex did feel bad as he watched Ash disappear down the crumbling sidewalk past the empty stoops and flickering street lights; because Ash was right. Alex was out of line. He wasn’t Ash’s father, or his keeper, and Ash had every right to keep some parts of his life private. Even from Alex. 

That didn’t make him worry any less. 

Before he’d disappeared onto Hickory street, Alex could see that Ash had already pulled his phone out and pressed it to his ear. Such dedication, even to his secrets. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Alex heard Bones ask from somewhere behind him—and it dawned on him that now he was just standing in the doorway staring out at the night like a depressed housewife. 

“No, actually, Ash just left,” Alex grumbled, closing the door. The house felt eerily still. He hoped Ash wouldn’t stay out too long—he really didn’t want to have to wait up in the front room like a parent on prom night. 

Bones looked about as lost as Alex felt. “By himself?” 

“Yeah, he wanted some privacy.” Alex would not admit to how he spit the word ‘privacy’ as if it was sacrilegious. 

“Privacy?” Bones parroted as if the word was unimaginable—and for someone like Bones who’d all but grown up surrounded by gang brothers in apartments and safehouses like a second family, maybe it was. 

“I think he’s seeing someone,” Alex confessed. It was even more distressing to say it out loud but he was sure if he held it in any longer he’d combust or go mad, and he wasn’t fond of either idea. 

“Wha—really? Our Ash? But, he never—” 

“I know,” Alex gently reassured him. “I know.” 

And what could they do? Ash was an adult—he’d turned eighteen just mere months ago, but he’d been emancipated from guardianship for years. He’d been leading and fighting for far longer. Alex could do nothing but piss him off by prying, by trying to give him advice he’d never asked for. Ash was a teenager with too much power at his fingertips and too many things to micromanage, but he was right—Alex wasn’t his father. 

And just like any unruly teenager, Ash was going to do whatever it was he’d gotten into his mind—regardless of whether anyone else approved or not. 

-

FRIDAY – MORNING; 

The first thing Shorter noticed when Alex showed up at Chang Dai unannounced, and alone, was that the man was an anxious mess; mused hair and twitchy hands smoothing at the seams of his jacket like he couldn’t help himself as he approached the front counter. 

Had Ash been hurt? Had someone had a run-in with the cops, or worse—with that 80s anime looking fuck that was hellbent on encroaching on their territories? 

Shorter was more than ready to grab his 9mm and go wherever need be. 

“I think Ash is seeing someone,” Alex breathed out, rushed and harried and not at _all_ what Shorter had been mentally steeling himself for. “Has he said anything to you?” 

Shorter felt some strange mix of curiosity and disappointment; it had been a slow morning so far and being given an opportunity to pistol whip Arthur before it was even the weekend might have been expecting too much. “I mean, no—but I also don’t call him up every time I get laid, you know?” 

“I don’t mean getting laid, I mean like, _seeing_ someone. You know.” 

“ _Courting_ , you mean?” Shorter teased, propping his chin in his hand and batting his eyes. Alex lazily swatted him away, half-hearted and pathetic, groaning as though physically pained at the mere idea. 

“Did he talk to you?” 

Shorter gave a quick mental glance through his week; Ash had been strangely quiet with only the occasional text about meetings or shipments but Shorter had just assumed that it boiled down to Ash’s ridiculous schedule and workaholic tendencies—especially considering Arthur had been getting a little bolder lately. 

It took time and energy to keep the underground in some semblance of order—none of which left a lot of time for hookups, unfortunately. 

Not that Ash would be vocal about it anyway, even to Shorter. “Nope, complete radio-silence in the dicking department. What’s the big deal either way?” 

“You’re not hurt Ash didn’t say anything to you?” Alex asked, thin brows furrowed. 

Shorter didn’t have the emotional energy to spend explaining the parameters of their six years of friendship and the complexities of Ash’s thought-process. Shorter still didn’t fully understand Ash himself, not always. “Ash is Ash. He does his own thing. It’s like being friends with a cat—sometimes I don’t see him for a week but I find leftovers missing from the fridge and know he’s alive _somewhere_.” 

“He’s driving me nuts,” Alex finally admitted, shoulders drooping till his forehead touched the counter, looking for all the world like a man defeated. “He’s spacey. He’s been forgetting meetings and drop-offs, he’s just on his phone all the time—fuck, he walked into a _lamp post_.” 

“So I've heard,” Shorter nodded enthusiastically. “I’m more hurt that you didn’t record it for me than anything. It sounded hilarious.” 

“It was, but also not the point.” 

“I mean, Baby’s First Crush, you know? Got to let him work through it.” 

“Cain said he looked like he was in love,” Alex whispered. He shut his eyes and grimaced as if love was the worst diagnosis for a young man. And, in their line of work, Shorter guessed it sort of was. 

Relationships became bartering chips or violent threats. Outside affairs were easy targets and you became an easy target by proxy. His hopeless romantic heart wanted to deny it, but he himself knew well that there was no safety in love. Not for them, anyway. 

Shorter whistled long and low, watching Alex scrub a hand through his short brown hair. He didn’t envy the man’s job—Ash was a handful enough without Shorter having to answer to him. “Cain, huh? That bad?” 

Alex nodded, solemn. “That bad.” 

“Who would our little Lynx even give the time of day? No judgements, but I didn’t think till recently that he was even capable of feeling attraction.” 

“How recent, again?” Alex snorted. 

Shorter slapped his palms flat to the counter and leaned a little too close, far too excited. He loved drama. Nadia made fun of him for watching k-dramas when they were kids, but he’s been training for this day since he was thirteen. 

“Oooh, do we think it’s _him_?” Shorter asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

He knew Alex understood him without the full spiel; all of them that night had been _more_ than aware of the cute Japanese student that had turned Ash Lynx into a stupid mess within a fifteen-minute conversation and a half-assed pool game. Truly a god among mortal men. 

Shorter had also appreciated how deeply the unnamed man had pissed off Yut-Lung without ever uttering a word to him—Shorter hoped he’d get the chance to thank the kid in person someday for his work as a literal angel. 

Alex pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and Shorter was once again struck with how _glad_ he was to not have his job. 

“Maybe,” Alex ground out, sounding absolutely distressed at the idea. 

“Well, let’s find out,” Shorter suggested with a wink. He took deep pleasure from the way Alex seemed to nearly collapse right there. 

Nadia emerged from the kitchen with a blackboard, popping Shorter on the top of his head with all the affection of an older sister as she watched Alex wilt in obvious torment. “Quit harassing Alex,” she muttered, sounding fondly exasperated. 

“I’m not _harassing_ I’m _solving_ the problem!” He corrected, gesturing wildly enough to hit his hand off the register. Nadia just sputtered at his pain and turned away. Alex was still having a meltdown or mid-life crisis or whatever he called it. 

Honestly, no one appreciated him. Ungrateful. All of them. 

\- 

FRIDAY – EVENING; 

Shorter knew Ash well enough to reason that if Ash hadn’t come to him already, he wasn’t going to bring it to Shorter at all unless he was dragged kicking and screaming the whole way. It was hard to tell what was going through his friend’s head, but Shorter could imagine that fear played some role—especially if he was as enamored with this boy as Shorter thought. 

If it was even the same guy at all. Shorter supposed that there was the possibility that Ash had managed the luck of meeting two guys within a week that were both able to catch his picky and distracted eye; but the chances of Ash falling so quickly for anyone else was basically inconsequential, given his history—or lack thereof. 

He figured the method that would result in the least amount of tears (probably on his part) and hair tearing (on Alex’s) would be to catch the little shit red-handed. 

**to: dickweed**

_hey, we going to the bar tomorrow night after that meeting or nah ___

 **from: dickweed**

_can’t, sorry. i’ve got plans_

**to: dickweed**

_since when you antisocial gremlin  
do you know how many times yut-lung called me this week  
i need enough whiskey to blackout my call list  
_

**from: dickweed**

_i already made plans, i can’t bail. i’ll make it up to you._

Shorter felt more like a gossipy bitch than usual as he took a screenshot and switched to a text thread of only Alex and himself to send it. The reply was quicker than even Shorter had been expecting. He could imagine Alex pacing around their kitchen in his little jean jacket, phone in hand.

**from: cpt. jean jacket**

_I’m quitting my job._

**to: cpt. jean jacket**

_you know what we have to do_

-

SATURDAY; NIGHT

“This is fucking stupid,” Sing whispered, mostly because Shorter had already shushed him twice. But he knew damn well that bastard had heard him even though his boss didn’t immediately turn to acknowledge Sing’s irritable sentiment. 

Sing had just wanted to go get drunk, for fucks sake; it was a long week of dealing with King Fuckass of downtown and running errands for Shorter and the only saving grace for it all had been Nadia saving him leftovers every night—a true angel among their chaos. 

With all the headaches he’d suffered recently, he deserved a few shots of some top-shelf whiskey on Shorter’s tab, goddammit. 

“We’re doing this for a friend,” Shorter reminded him loftily. It was his holier-than-thou voice that he used when he really wanted to convince them that he wasn’t being a nosy shit. He even had the gall to rest his hand over his heart and widen his eyes, imploring. Sing wanted to punch him. 

“You know damn well he’s just going to see that guy from last weekend again. He’s into him, they’re probably fucking, ectara. What’s the big deal?” 

“In-house fighting,” Shorter chuckled. At Sing’s questioning look, he continued, “Apparently Ash is being a brat and Alex is feeling like a single father of five and honestly, I just thought this was more fun.” 

Shorter took a moment to peer around the corner building they were huddled up against; the little house Ash and his crew rented was well within sight. The neighborhood was adorably small and quiet and Sing was sure they stuck out like a sore-thumb, crouched at the end of the street just out of reach of the street light. 

Sing could see one of the lights upstairs flick off in what he remembered to be Ash’s room, some movement through a downstairs window. 

“You love the drama, you mean,” Sing accused. 

“Basically. And he’s been hiding it from me too, so you can consider me being nosy just revenge for him never giving me prime gossip.” 

“At least you admit you’re being nosy. The first step is acceptance.” 

Only mere minutes after the upstairs fell dark the front door opened and Ash stepped onto the porch—looking rather dressed up, Sing noted. Even with nothing but shoddy streetlight to see by Sing could see the fitted slacks and cream overcoat, neither of which Sing could reconcile with the Ash he knew. 

“He’s awful dressed up,” Sing muttered. Shorter gave him a glance that was caught somewhere between smug and excited. 

Ash seemed in a hurry, skipping down the steps with a little too much enthusiasm and taking off towards downtown, thankfully the opposite direction of where Shorter and Sing had hidden. Sing hadn’t wanted to imagine trying to explain it away if Ash saw them—he was intimidating enough without a reason to kick their asses. And basically stalking him was probably a pretty decent fucking reason. 

“We should go,” Sing tried to plead, but the rest of Ash’s crew emerged from the front door, creeping down the steps as Ash put distance between himself and the house, and Shorter took off to meet them on the sidewalk. Sing cursed but followed—when your boss does something stupid, it doesn’t leave you with many options. 

Someone’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t get his ass beat, Sing reasoned. 

“He’s definitely dressed up for date,” Shorter was saying to Alex when Sing caught up. Alex was nodding along, grimacing and grumbling about Ash being _off_ most of the day, and Kong suggested they hurry before they lose sight of him. Bones was practically off the wall to do some recon. 

They set off after Ash with little conversation beyond that. Sing could see the back of Ash’s coat at the end of the street, oblivious as Alex attempted to reel in an overenthusiastic Bones. Kong was making bets with Shorter over whether it was a date or just a hookup—or if he was actually leading a double life and was going to meet his other spy-friends. 

Is this what happens when you hit your twenties, Sing wondered? You turn nosy and pathetic? God, Sing would give anything to not be here. He could be drunk, or sleeping, or stealing Shorter’s food from the fridge and watching Netflix in his underwear. That was the true tragedy—not Ash getting some good dick that made him an airhead. 

But it quickly dawned on Sing that there really _was_ something wrong with Ash; the four of them bumbling along, barely two blocks behind as they watched Ash weave his way through the Saturday night crowd—and he seemed to have _no fucking idea_. 

Ash—their Ash who was trained to feel the nuance of the atmosphere and sense every shift in the room from body language to temperature and who’s instincts felt downright _mystical_ sometimes—strolled through downtown in his stupid shiny shoes and styled hair, completely unaware and oblivious. 

Somewhere, Blanca was in tears, Sing was sure. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t noticed us,” Sing muttered to Kong. 

Alex snorted. “I can.” 

Shorter patted him consolingly on the shoulder and Sing couldn’t hold back his disappointed sigh. This was all too dramatic. _They_ were all too fucking dramatic. 

“Ooh, looks like he’s stopping,” Bones whispered, trying to launch himself over Alex’s shoulder to watch where Ash was entering a glass storefront and disappearing. 

“Excuse the fuck out of me,” Shorter was stage-whispering to them in pure wonder, looking far too delighted. “Is that a _flower_ shop?” 

“Wow, he’s got it worse than we thought,” Kong chuckled. Alex pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, hiking up his shoulders as if to curl in on himself, and Shorter burst into near hysterics. Sing tried desperately to shush him. He was in too deep and if they got caught, it was Sing’s ass on the line, too. 

“C’mon,” Shorter started between his giggles, lightly goading the distressed second-in-command currently crouched against the brick mortar of the building closest to them. “This is cute. I don’t think he’s ever bought flowers for anyone in his _life_.” 

“That’s the _problem_ ,” Alex hissed back, exasperated. 

Sing seemed to be the only one to notice Ash emerging from the store. He was quick to shove his elbows into Shorter and Alex’s sides to quiet them down. “Shut the fuck up, he’ll hear us.” 

“Sounds like you’re getting invested,” Shorter teased. 

“What’d he buy? What’d he buy?” Bones chanted, tucking himself between Alex and Shorter to watch before Kong could hold him back. 

“I’m… confused,” Sing admitted. Dressing up, buying gifts, _skipping bar night_ —none of this added up to the Ash Lynx that Sing had become acquainted with over the past few years. It was like watching a dog walk on it’s hind legs; not impossible and yet still farfetched enough to make you pause and ask, what the fuck? 

“He bought a potted plant?” Alex asked aloud as they all watched Ash gently tuck the thing close to his chest before continuing on his way. 

Shorter rested a hand over his heart again. “He’ll be able to keep a potted plant longer. It’s _symbolic_ ,” Shorter argued, sighing. 

Ash seemed to be heading east towards areas more known for being college-kid spots, full of overpriced studio apartments and bustling nightlife. Sing didn’t know it for a fact, but judging by the glee on Shorter’s face and exasperation on Alex’s, he felt confident assuming that they didn’t have much business in the area. 

“That is adorable,” Kong fussed. He pressed his hands to his cheeks, looking near in tears at the idea, and Sing wasn’t entirely convinced that he hadn’t accidentally entered an alternate dimension or a dark timeline. 

“Stop enjoying this,” Alex groaned. 

Shorter suddenly grabbed at Sing and Alex, shaking them for their attention as Ash took a turn. “He’s going, let’s move!” 

Ash ended up winding his way to a sleepy side-street with significantly less foot-traffic and warm lit stoops framed by cozy housing complexes. Shorter tried to rush ahead but Sing managed to grab him before he could blow their cover on the open street. Lighter traffic meant higher risk. 

“Watch it, it’ll be easy for him to spot us,” he warned. 

They spent longer than Sing would ever admit pressing themselves to the sides of buildings and ducking behind potted plants on steps as Ash made his way past apartments with FOR RENT signs and grannies in rocking chairs enjoying the night air. 

Only one older gentleman out for a smoke asked, “what the hell they were doing.” He seemed to take Shorter’s (too blunt) answer of “following our friend to find out who he’s dating” weirdly well. Sing sometimes wished that Shorter would stop speaking. 

Ash stopped in front of a brick building that could be mistaken for five others they had passed, but here Ash hesitated before climbing the steps to press a buzzer. They were close enough to see the cracks in the stone stairs where weeds had begun to fight their way through, and the multi-cultural flag banner strung up in one of the lower level windows. 

They all seemed to lean in as someone addressed Ash through a decrepit speaker strung up by the entrance. Sing couldn’t for the life of him make out the tinny voice from the buzzer, just a distant hum—but fuck did Ash’s face _light up_. 

Interesting. 

“It’s me,” was all Ash responded, warm and familiar and fond, gross tone carried on the cooling wind. It was so sweet Sing was sure he’d vomit. The resident responded with something Sing still couldn’t catch, but it drew a laugh from the boss that made Sing feel the need to fake-retch between Shorter and Kong. 

“Seconded,” Alex muttered in solidarity, and got Shorter’s elbow in his side for the trouble. 

The owner threw the front door open as if too excited to contain themselves knowing Ash “It’s Me” Lynx was on the other side; lo and fucking behold, it was the cute guy from the bar in a pink collard shirt and hemmed jeans that would definitely make Yut-Lung throw up for real. 

“Who would have fucking guessed,” Sing sighed, rolling his eyes. All this work for nothing, really. Any idiot with eyes could have guessed it. This time Sing got Shorter’s elbow to the ribs and suddenly he pitied Alex. Shorter’s elbows were fucking _bony_. 

The two exchanged hushed greetings that proved impossible to catch over the rumble of a passing car but it wasn’t hard to catch the red on Ash’s face or the way he fidgeted with the sleeve of his overcoat. 

Then Ash held out the little potted green plant, clutched carefully between both hands like a child as he held it out to the guy, and smiled so hopefully that Sing almost had to look away, blinded by second-hand embarrassment. 

The guy melted as if Ash had just offered him his every heart’s desire. His expression transformed from excitable to something softer, something fond. He reached out to cup his hands around Ash’s, the little plant held between them, before stretching up to press his lips to Ash’s cheek—slow, gentle, grateful and warm. 

_Cute._

Just as the guy pulled back, as if fated, his eyes slid past Ash and landed on where the five of them were huddled just round a stoop a few doors down—painfully obvious and pitiful. Shorter and Alex both let out noises that were _definitely_ squeaks and he would never let them live down before ducking in hopes of the concrete siding hiding them better than the railing had. 

Sing was the only one still standing, long enough to catch and keep the guy’s stupid doe eyes as he muttered something to Ash. In a quick second decision, he decided that this was enough stupidity for the evening. What a waste of a Saturday night. He mock-saluted to Ash’s little boyfriend and turned on his heel. 

“I’m going home. Enjoy the hospital,” Sing told them. 

He heard Shorter hiss at him to come back-- _you’ll blow our cover!_ — as Bones and Kong began to ask in a panic if they had been seen. 

He wondered if Yut-Lung was still in his office—it was only a twenty minute ride on the EL to bother the youngest Lee into a drunk, downward spiral. Talk about fun. 

[A] 

Eiji could make anything look stylish, Ash thought—and he knew it was pathetic, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

He’d never considered that his type would come with cuffed mom jeans and bright pink button-downs with overstretched collars—but here he was, completely enamored and knowing he would never need for more as long as he had Eiji Okumura smiling at him like _that_. 

Before he got too lost he remembered the plant he had tucked carefully into his jacket and presented it with what he had hoped would be a cute flourish but he was sure came off more as an anxious flinch. 

“A succulent?” Eiji muttered, curious, big dark eyes impossibly warm. 

“Echeveria. You said the other day that your roommate’s cat dug yours up. You sounded pretty bummed about it,” Ash explained, and then it occurred to him—was this weird? Was he overstepping? Buying gifts could be too much too fast, but he’d just wanted to cheer Eiji up after what Ash knew from their late-night calls had been a tough week— 

But then Eiji was settling his hands over Ash’s, soft and warm, and leaning up to place what was probably the most chaste kiss Ash had ever experienced on his cheek. It was like feeling the world fall into place, everything right and proper and perfect, and it made his heart _ache_. 

When Eiji pulled away Ash was sure he would collapse right there on the front step. There was no way his heart could beat like that and it not mean something dangerous. 

“You are so sweet,” Eiji whispered as he drew back and Ash knew he would collapse then. How lucky he was to be here now with him, how lucky he was to chance meeting him at all— 

Eiji’s eyes slid past him then, settling on something that made him brace himself with weary eyes. One of his hands flew to Ash’s wrist, still clutching the potted succulent. Eiji’s touch was feather-light with a warning where his fingertips pressed to Ash’s pulse. “I think those men are following you.” 

Ash didn’t need to turn to understand—but how endearing. Eiji was so quick to turn cautious. The look in his eyes was damn near venomous. A small commotion started amongst the passing traffic and a distant bell; Ash could easily pick his best friend’s distressed tone above the other’s, pleading. 

“Those would be my friends,” Ash murmured. He didn’t bother to hide the laugh that he felt bubble from his chest—two-parts embarrassment and one-part incredulity. “They’re being nosy. The saddest part is they actually thought they were being sneaky.” 

“Oh, one of them is leaving,” Eiji murmured, eyes following someone. Probably Sing—he was the most likely to bail on something so ridiculous as following Ash on a date, and he seemed to be the only one with any modicum of respect for Ash anymore. 

That thought should probably concern Ash more than it did, but Eiji’s hands were warm and his eyes were so _dark_ they were enchanting. He could concern himself with loyalty in the morning. 

“Short one in a bomber jacket?” Ash asked. Eiji nodded, and Ash found himself pressing closer. “Want to make the rest of them leave?” 

“You’re about to be embarrassing, aren’t you,” Eiji accused—and yet, despite his tone and cocked eyebrow, he simply grinned and let Ash curl one free arm around his waist, easily melting into the touch. 

“Absolutely.” 

He drew Eiji against him, making sure to turn them just enough that it was clearly visible to their spectators when Ash pressed his mouth to Eiji’s—open mouthed and urgent and shameless. Eiji responded in kind, soft palms smoothing themselves along Ash’s jaw to guide him ever impossibly closer. 

Ash wasn’t entirely sure if the following scream he heard was Alex or Shorter, but regardless, he counted it as a personal win.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @niadoesweeb for writing updates/previews, memes, tiktoks that make me cry at 3am, and general garbage. we have fun here.
> 
> see you next time 🤍


End file.
